


The Bartender

by xaccier



Series: dreamnotfound fics [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bartender AU, First Meeting, George definitely has his priorities straight, M/M, Underage Drinking, dream is a bartender, george thinks dream looks good in the club lights, late night drinks, sapnap and karl are drunk, two dudes chilling in a bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaccier/pseuds/xaccier
Summary: George let himself relax for a second, watching Clay soundly. His movements were smooth—George guessed he’d been working here for a while. Not to mention, he knew his way around; grabbing cups and drinks from every crevice, nook and cranny; mixing random cocktails that people seemed to somehow enjoy... George was almost in awe.——Or, George meets the bartender Clay (Dream) at a random bar and they instantly connect—but maybe being a bartender isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Series: dreamnotfound fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026964
Comments: 21
Kudos: 259





	The Bartender

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone states they’re uncomfortable with the shipping, then this will be taken down.
> 
> Please enjoy!

George’s hands clamped harder around his coat that was resting over his knees. Sapnap and Karl had really hit it off, which he was glad about, but he’d been thrown to the side and was getting bored. He just wanted to go home.

He audibly sighed, reaching behind him to pick up his glass of coke and taking a big gulp. The fizz burned his throat as it went down, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

George rested his arm on the bar behind him. He studied the two teenagers, who were getting more and more drunk by the second, and sitting so close to each other that they could probably smell the alcohol on each other’s breath. It made George feel more lonely than anything, so he turned around to face the bar properly, swinging his legs and playing with his glass. He swirled the dark liquid around, watching it bump against the sides and fizz.

”Bad night?” The bartender asked, and George didn’t look up. He could see out of his peripherals that the man was cleaning a glass with a rag. George sighed, again.

”You could say that.” The nightclub’s lights swirled around in George’s eyes, and he felt dizzy. They danced in purples and reds (at least, George guessed they were that colour—his colourblindness wasn’t much help) and it lit up the place in weird mixes of rainbows.

He felt that bar shake for a moment as the man placed the glass back down, before reaching for a different one. George felt like his head was heavy, and his neck ached. He wasn’t sure how you could get drunk off coke, but he swore he was.

”Get stood up?” The man asked. Now _that_ made George’s head lift—quite fast, actually.

”No, i didn’t, thank you...” George trailed off as he locked eyes with the bartender.

The man was quite young—which startled George; why was he working at a bar if he was the same age as them? Then again, it’s not like they were old enough to drink, and get here they were. His face was littered with freckles, and his eyes were slightly hidden by the shadow of his golden bangs. George felt his face flush as his eyes wondered, but he couldn’t help it.

The man was looking down at his from the side, standing to the right of George. His uniform was black, with a black apron tied around his waist. He had a few bracelets, which George noticed after the light bounced off them and into his eyes, accompanied by a few subtle rings.

George’s eyes moved back up to the man’s face. He had stopped looking at George now—a customer had asked him about the menu’s and what specials he would recommend—and George felt slightly embarrassed that he’d spent so long admiring the boy. The way the light danced about over his features, though, made George’s headache die down instantly, and he suddenly hoped that the annoying lights would never cease.

George shook his head and eyed his drink again. Was he sure that he hadn’t asked for rum and coke? He was almost certain that he was black out drunk.

His phone pinged—not that he heard it; the music was quite loud—but the vibrations signalled him from his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the message.

_  
_ _**Sapnap** _ _**00:12**_

_donuts_

_will talj to u soon_

_donr hace too much fun witj yhe baryendter!’!_

George chose to ignore the last message, and instead his head whipped towards were Sapnap and Karl had been earlier, only to see that they were gone. His heart spiked. He was supposed to look after them, and now he had no idea where they’d ran off to.

He looked back down at Sapnap’s text. “Donuts?”

”What’s up?” George lifted his head, only to be met with golden eyes. The bartender. His words clung to his throat.

“Uh—... do you know where the nearest donut place is?” George asked, hand gripping his phone.

”Yeah, it’s just next door,” the bartender answered helpfully, and George physically relaxed. “Why?”

George peered up at him. “My friend. He just texted me to say he was getting donuts, and i was worried because he’s quite possibly drunk.”

The bartender laughed. George’s spine dripped with sweat. “Shouldn’t you go and check on him?” The man dipped down, leaning forward and resting his chin in his palm, quite close to George. George didn’t move.

”Eh, he‘ll be fine,” George replied, before smiling. “Thanks for your concern though, Clay. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

The man straightened ever so slightly. “Huh?”

George clocked his confusion, and pointed at his name-tag. The man audibly, ‘Oh’d’, and George laughed. “Thought you were a creep for a second.”

More laughing. “Me? Never.” Clay picked up another glass, straightening up properly this time, before rubbing it dry with the same rag from before. George was honestly sure that he was just smearing the water—after all, how could you dry something with a wet rag?—but he didn’t question it.

”What brings you here?” Clay asked, voice slightly raised to get it to George, past the booming music.

”To the bar or to Florida?” George asked in retaliation. He was sure that the other boy had clocked his accent by this point.

”Both,” Clay responded smoothly. George raised his eyebrows.

”Well... I’m in the bar because of my friend—“

”The friend who went to get donuts?” Clay interjected, and George nodded.

”Yeah, that’s the one. He came to meet up with his ‘friend’—“ George used his fingers for sarcastic quotation marks. “—Karl. They’ve been hitting it off all night, so i let them be for a bit. And now they’ve left me to rot here by myself.”

Clay laughed, and George felt a bit of pride well up in his chest. “Well, i wouldn’t say you’re completely alone,” Clay smirked, hanging a wine glass upside down on one of the racks above him. “You’ve got me.”

George flushed. He leant on his hand smoothly, hoping that the lights of club hid his blush. “Okay, then what about you? Why are you here?” George questioned.

”Hey, hey, hey. You’re not finished yet. You still haven’t told me why you’re in Florida.” Clay smirked. George rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless.

”Fine. I’m here because of college. Sapnap—“ George interrupted himself. “—The donut guy told me about the college he was going to, and i told him i was going to similar one in England. He asked me if I’d move here to go to school with him.” Clay listened carefully. George didn’t know why he was telling the boy all of this, but he couldn’t—didn’t want to—stop. “Of course, at first i was sceptical—I mean, it’s a whole other country, never mind a completely new _continent,_ but we broke everything down and it turned out it would be a lot less expensive to come here than to stay in London.”

”Is London expensive?” Clay urged George to continue. George looked away for a second George as Clay poured another drink—a coke—and slid it towards him.

”Let’s just say it’s twice the amount of an apartment over here to get a taxi for five minutes over there,” George sighed, and Clay laughed, “How much for this?”

Clay raised an eyebrow. “It’s on the house.” George eyed him suspiciously, but Clay just shrugged. He turned to pick up another glass before slowly spinning back on his heels. “Well, i do want one thing.”

George rolled his eyes. _Of course._ “What do you want?”

”Its easy, really,” Clay started, popping the joints in his fingers. “I just wanna know your name.”

George nearly face-palmed. “My name is worth a drink?” He scoffed.

”What, do you want two?” Clay asked, face serious.

George stuttered. “T-That’s not what i meant...” George looked down at his hands.

”You don’t have to tell me, dude.” Clay assured.

George felt bad. And for some reason, he did want to tell the stranger his name. “...It’s George.”

Clay stared. The music buzzed loudly in George’s ears, accompanied by the drumming of his heart, that hadn’t stopped speeding up since he’d put his phone down.

Clay hummed. “...George,” he mumbled, as if he was testing the name on his tongue. “I like it. It suits you.”

George reddened. “So anyway, why are you here? Bartending, i mean.” George opted to ignore the blonde’s comment.

Clay clicked his tongue. “School is expensive,” he answered simply.

” _That_ i get,” George agreed, and Clay sent a smile towards him. “Is it hard working here?”

Clay thought for a second. “Sometimes. You get the odd creep who just wants to get in your pants, you know?” George nodded in understanding—not that he’d ever experienced it before, and it quite frankly surprised him that it was a genuine problem for Clay. “But hey, most of the time i get to meet people like you, so it’s not all bad.”

George’s expression dropped. He knew it was meant to be a compliment, but something about the thought that he was just another guy in a random bar made him stomach plummet. He dropped his head. The music picked up.

”So...” Clay started, and George looked up from his lap. He wondered how many dirty glasses one bar could have. “How long have you been in Florida? Are you enjoying it here?”

George raised an eyebrow in almost disbelief. It wasn’t often that someone had any interest in him—never mind a stranger from a bar. “Around seven months now. Coming up to eight.”

”Damn, so not long then?” Clay interrupted—not that George minded—with a surprised look on his face.

”No, not long at all,” George replied, sipping at his drink absentmindedly. “And I’m actually really enjoying it here. I think i might stay. After college, i mean.”

Clay’s face seemed to brighten. “I’m glad you like it here! People usually think of Florida as ‘the place where mayhem happens’ but it’s a lot more—“

George watched Clay’s eyes sparkle as his talked about Florida. It was clear that he loved the country, and George felt jealous that he didn’t have the same admiration for his home. Even so, George felt his shoulders relax listening the blonde.

He wondered if Clay was like this with all of his customers.

”—not to mention the gorgeous beaches,” Clay sighed, contently. George was about to speak up, but suddenly Clay was being pulled away by another employee. The blonde glanced back at George, who stared with an eyebrow raised and his glass against his lips, before disappearing into the kitchens. George assumed it was work stuff, so he tried to not let it bother him.

After a few more swigs of his drink, he pulled out his phone.

_**George 01:02** _

_are you guys still at the donut place?_

_everything okay?_

George impatiently waited for a reply, tapping his heels against the metal rim of his seat. Soon enough, his phone pinged.

_**Sapnap 01:04** _

_sleepy_

_kael is askeep_

_hes so cyte wjen hea skeepinf_

George rolled his eyes, but he was secretly relieved. They’d be fine—he knew how scarily fast Sapnap could sober up if he needed to. As long as they didn’t both fall asleep, they’d be good.

_**George 01:05** _

_alright, sapnap_

_take care of karl, okay?_

**_Sapnap 01:05_ **

_od cokurse dum dkm_

_ate yku havinf dfun wjtg thr bratdender??_

George was about to reply with a snarky quip, but he felt a presence in front of him, so he looked up instead.

He was met with a dark pair of eyes, and a man with jet black hair. George usually would’ve been intimated by such a man, but his demeanour made him seem like a nice enough person. He placed his phone on the bar-top.

”Hi, sorry to bother you,” the young man started—which George was surprised by; why were so many teenagers working at a _bar?_ “But i just wanted to make sure that Clay didn’t bother you?”

George replayed the question over in his head a few times, before his face dropped once again. He and Clay had been talking for a while—did Clay just get told off because George was distracting him?

Once again George’s emotions betrayed him though, when he felt heat rise to his cheeks at the thought of Clay not doing his job properly because he wanted to spent time with _him._

George looked up at the man who was patiently waiting for an answer, and flushed in embarrassment.

”No, no! He wasn’t bothering me at all,” George waved his hands in dismissal, and he saw the other boy visibly relax. “In fact, he was being a father good distraction.”

The man—who’s name-tag read _‘Darryl (Bad)_ (George figured he’d just call him Bad)—raised his eyebrows.

George nearly whacked his head on the bar table. “I’m sorry, that sounded—“

”No, please! As long as you two are having fun.”

George sighed, biting his lip. “Where is he, by the way? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Bad chuckled. George thought that he was quite nice. “He’s been sentenced to work in the kitchen for a while. Head Chef Schlatt wasn’t too happy that he wasn’t doing his job.”

George hummed, nearly laughing. He felt bad for the guy—but then again, it was quite funny.

”Well, to be fair, he has been cleaning glasses all night.” George pointed over at the shelf of squeaky-clean glasses, and Bad gasped at the sight of them.

”So, he has been working?” Bad asked, turning back around to face George.

”Yeah, technically,” George answered, leaning forward on his hands.

”Oh dear,” Bad started, before throwing his cloth under the bar and tightening his apron. “If you’ll excuse me, i need to go and sort some things out.”

George laughed, waving at the man who abruptly left to go and save Clay. George was happy he could help. His phone lit up next to him, and the bright light compared to the velvet lights of the club grabbed his attention.

_**Sapnap 01:16** _

_had spme water snd im siberinf up_

**_George 1:17_ **

_still cant type though_

”Guess who’s back.” George lifted his head at the sound of Clay’s voice. The brunette instantly smiled.

”Welcome back,” he replied, switching his phone off. “How was the kitchen?” George teased.

Clay groaned. “Hell. I was only there for five minutes but it felt like forever. I hate that damn Schlatt.”

George winced. “I can tell.”

Clay reached for his rag and whistled. It seemed like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure. After a while, he asked, “Did you... say something? To Bad?”

George clicked his tongue. “That’s for me to know.”

Clay laughed. A sort of giggle, actually, that made George’s heart swell. He wasn’t sure when the sound of Clay’s laugh started being a source of serotonin for him, but it had—which was funny, considering the two had only known each other a _very_ short while.

George let himself relax for a second, watching Clay soundly. His movements were smooth—George guessed he’d been working here for a while. Not to mention, he knew his way around; grabbing cups and drinks from every crevice, nook and cranny; mixing random cocktails that people seemed to somehow enjoy... George was almost in awe.

The brunette barely even registered that it was nearly 2am, and that he had college tomorrow. He barely even remembered that his friends were drunk off their shit next door, or that the lights and Clay’s movements were making him dizzy.

George always thought that in movies, it was bullshit that everything could go in slow-motion when you’re watching something—or someone—you find heavenly. Apparently it wasn’t though, because George felt his world slow down while he watched Clay. He swore on his life that the drinks poured slower.

His phone dinged. Everything sped up again as he tore his eyes away from the blonde.

_**Sapnap 01:56** _

_feelvsick_

_take us hmoe_

_home  
  
_

George swallowed. He looked back up at Clay, and then back down at his phone. He squeezed it tight in his hand.

_**George 01:58** _

_i’m coming_

_stay where you are_

_try not to throw up_

George sighed and tipped his drink back, gulping down what was left of it. He felt Clay’s eyes on him as he stood, grabbing his coat from the seat next to him.

”Are you off?” Clay asked, ceasing his movement. George looked away.

“Yeah,” he mumbled—but still loud enough that Clay could hear him—and he pulled his wallet out.

Clay raised his eyebrows. “I told you it was on the house.”

George laughed. “And what would your boss think? Plus, i need to pay for my friends too.”

Clay furrowed his brows. He leant forward over the counter, and George held his breath as the blonde came closer. George could see his fair skin glistening with sweat under the lights, and he wanted to reach up and swipe it away. But, alas, he composed himself.

”I told you—“ Clay reached forward, and George flinched, but Clay just rested his hand on the boys shoulder, close to his neck. “—that it’s was on the house. That includes your friends.”

George wanted to argue; he really did. But Clay’s hand squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, and gold eyes burned into his own. George swallowed, again, and reached up to grab his wrist.

”There’s gotta be something i can do,” George argued. It wasn’t a big deal—it was only a few drinks in total—so why was he dragging this out? Maybe it was because he wanted an excuse to not leave.

Clay hummed, his face close to George’s and body sprawled over the bar. George walked forward slightly to make him more comfortable, and he moved back, grateful.

”This Friday,” Clay started, and George titled his head to the side. “Meet me at the Brown Bar down the road. We’ll do a switch up—your friends left you to have fun, so let’s do the same to them.”

George lifted his eyebrows. “That sounds—“

”Fun?” Clay finished for him, a smirk on his face. George flushed.

He waited for a second. “...Fine. I’ll be there.” Clay smiled, and let go of George’s shoulder, leaning back and straightening up.

George hesitated.

”Do you... want my number?” He asked sheepishly. Clay smirked, again. George blushed—half embarrassed, half... not so much.

”Check the bottom of your glass,” Clay shrugged. He picked up his rag, flinging it over his shoulder, and turned away to walk off, and George watched as he left.

Just before he entered the kitchen, he looked back and blew George a small kiss. George was left by himself in the bar once again, reddened.

He picked up his glass and turned it upside down, a bit of liquid dripping onto the bar mat. On the bottom was a slightly wet piece of paper.

George peeled it off and opened it up, and he nearly facepalmed.

_(***) *** ****  
_ _call me <3 — clay (the bartender)_

George stared at the paper for a while, before pulling it up and holding it close to his chest. He looked at the kitchen where Clay had disappeared into, and smiled. Fondly.

The brunette also mentally thanked the bartender for making his headache disappear, and for turning his night from one that he would’ve originally thought back on as lonely, to one he would hopefully remember forever.

-

**_— New contact added: ‘Clay <3’ —_ **

-

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos if you enjoyed and maybe leave a comment, it really helps keep me motivated :D
> 
> Follow my Twitter for updates on new stories and cool stuff like that; @xaccier


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